


Why Not Take a Snake (Snake Break)?

by Maze316



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Bad advice for people who want to own snakes, Found Family, M/M, Mild portrayals of bullying, Slow Burn, Snake Crowley, Snuns (snake puns), casual fluff, does it count as domestic fluff if your partner is a snake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-06-03 13:00:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19464523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maze316/pseuds/Maze316
Summary: When the threat of apocalypse is no longer looming upon them, Aziraphale and Crowley are ready to take a break and enjoy the mortal world. Crowley, however, wants to do this as a snake. What better way to take a break from your six thousand years of demoning than living in a warm, cozy bookshop for a few decades?





	1. Snake (Snake Break)

**Author's Note:**

> This has probably already been done before, but when has that ever stopped me?

And thus began the first days of the rest of their lives.

And Crowley was not feeling motivated.

“I dunno, the demon thing is getting kind of old. I don’t have to report back to Hell anymore, so what’s the point?” Crowley rambled.

 _“What’s the point?”_ Aziraphale asked. “Well, Crowley, you _are_ a demon! I’m not sure what else you think you can be!”

“I _was_ an angel once,” Crowley said.

“That was six thousand years ago.”

“And then I was a snake.”

“You are still a snake.”

“Exactly!” Crowley grinned.

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes, studying the demon’s face.

“Are you telling me you want to go back to being a snake?”

“Oh, come on. Just for a little bit! A few decades. It’ll be fun!”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “You’re finally free of the tyranny of Satan after six thousand years of your existence, and the first thing you want to do in turn into a helpless animal?”

“Precisely! I’m so glad you understand, angel.”

Aziraphale sighed and got up from his couch in the back room of the book store. He stretched his arms — and unnecessary habit he’d picked up from customers long lost in his tombs — and huffed again. 

“I’ll have to go find your old enclosure,” he submitted.

“I don’t need an enclosure! I’m still sentient as a snake, you know,” Crowley said, making no effort to get up after him.

“Remember that time I went to your flat and you were half dead on the cold stone fl—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Crowley interrupted. “Silly mistake. Won’t happen again.”

“I’ll probably have to find a replacement bulb for your heat lamp…”Aziraphale murmured as he wandered further into the labyrinth of his book storage slash living area. 

“Hey, angel!” Crowley jumped up all at once. “You can’t be serious.”

“Let’s make a deal,” Aziraphale said. He didn’t glance back, but know before he heard him that Crowley was right on his tail. 

“Usually I’m the one who’s supposed to do that,” Crowley said. 

“I’ll let you live in my nice, warm, cozy bookstore, if and only if, you help me get out the enclosure.”

_“Angel.”_

“That’s the deal. No big snake eyes can change my mind.”

Crowley put on his sunglasses. _“Fine.”_

Boxes of books batted each other as Aziraphale rummaged through his storage room. The room, lit by only a single lightbulb, had just been miraculously dusted. Every inch of the walls were covered in bookshelves; variety of labeled cardboard boxes were organized alphabetically. 

“Let’s see here… Did I label it C for Crowley or S for Snake…?” Aziraphale hovered over the rows of boxes to get a better look. “You know, if you wanted to be a cat instead, I have more than enough little homes for you.”

“Bookstore cats are overdone.”

“If you insist.” The box he found was in fact labeled T for Terrarium. He hefted it out of its spot. “Put this in my office, will you?” He held it out for Crowley. Crowley, a not-so-subtle grimace on his face, grabbed the box and sauntered into the other room. 

He clawed a line through the tape sealing the box. He examined the familiar objects inside: the large, glass terrarium was filled with a bag of bedding, the heat lamp, and various other decorations. He groaned. It smelled musty.

“Cut that out,” Aziraphale called. “Those things cost a lot of money.”

 _“It cost a lot of money,”_ Crowley mocked as he pulled the terrarium out of the box. “This is stupid.”

Aziraphale returned, brushing himself off. “You better be glad I don’t have to feed you frozen mice.”

“I don’t think you have the heart.”

“I don’t, thank you. Although I wouldn’t mind if you caught the mice who like to nibble on my books.”

Crowley made a guttural _yuck_ noise. 

“Guess not.” Aziraphale flicked a piece of lint from his sleeve. “Well, shall we?” 

“What, right now?”

“It was your idea.”

“You don't even have anything set up yet.”

“I'm perfectly capable of doing it in my own.”

“What about my plants? Someone has to keep them in line.”

“I am also perfectly capable of taking care of a few houseplants.”

“Why are you so ready for me to turn into a snake anyway, huh?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale said nothing, at first. He glanced around the room behind Crowley.

“Because I want you to be happy, Crowley,” he admitted. “After…. After all this, we deserve a vacation. If that means you're a snake and I'm a completely mundane bookshop keeper, well, then, so be it!”

Crowley's face raised in surprise.

“Well, no wonder they kept you an angel.”

“Besides, I know I couldn't change your mind, and you'd probably end up living in the wild for a few decades and G — well, who knows what would happen then.”

“Oh, no. I tried living in the wild once. It was horrible." Crowley’s face contorted at the memory. "There was this old woman, had to be at least 90. I was happily living in her yard with some other garter snakes. One day she came out with a gardening hoe and nearly chopped all our heads off! I barely escaped! Can you believe that?”

“Humans are not to be underestimated,” Aziraphale said. “But that's beside the point. For the love of Earth, we have to keep each other safe.”

Crowley, of course, felt safer than he ever had in his long existence. In that moment he realized, Aziraphale, ever used to authority, could no longer rely on his fellow angels to help him. Free at last and saddled with all the responsibility of the mortal world. 

“Alright, alright, you don't have to say any more. We're officially in this together.”

“Thank you.” As if convincing himself, Aziraphale nodded as he smiled.

“Just make sure you check on the plants at least twice a day, and water them. Don’t let them get soft. They _will_ take advantage of you.” 

“Alright, I’ll keep an especially close eye on the plants,” Aziraphale winked. 

“And, before I go full snake, there's one thing I want to tell you, angel.”

“And what's that?”

Crowley paused, a hesitation imperceptible to mortal senses.

“Don’t, uh, forget my favorite rock. The smooth one.”

“Of course not,” Aziraphale said. 

Crowley took off his sunglasses, folded them, and put them neatly on the desk beside him. He stared at Aziraphale with unchanging eyes as his body started to shrink. His hair retreated into his scalp, and his clothes conformed to his body. Skin hardened into scales as his elongated belly touched the floor. When he was done, he looked up at Aziraphale only a foot off the ground, the other three feet of his body sprawled out on the floor.

“I forgot how cute you are as a snake,” Aziraphale commented as he reached down. He booped Crowley on the snout before letting him slither up his arm. Crowley tasted the air as he ascended, habitating to the various smells of the bookshop. He found a spot around Aziraphale’s shoulders and wrapped himself around his arms.

“You know I still have to set this up,” Aziraphale said. 

Crowley did not move.

“Alright, then.” Aziraphale carefully began his work, ignoring how tightly his arms were held onto. He spent the rest of the afternoon making things exactly the way Crowley liked it.

He did not forget the rock. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 90-year-old lady is based on my Great Grandma Yankey. She did single-handedly decapitate snakes in her yard; she believed them to be creatures of the devil. She also loved butterflies and Abraham Lincoln.  
> I don't know how she'd feel about me writing this. Regardless, this one's to you, Great Grandma.


	2. Snants (Snake Plants)

Crowley’s flat didn’t have a lock. 

Firstly, the nearest neighbors were too afraid of the noises they had heard from his living quarters. 

Secondly, many could feel the ominous presence of a demon even after he had been gone for a while.

Thirdy, demons don’t need keys.

Aziraphale snapped his fingers, something he had figured out a scant one thousand years ago. Nothing happened. He tried again, putting a little angel magic into it. The door swung open. No wonder those demons were able to break in, he thought. The flat would never open to humans, but celestial beings were another thing.

The door closed behind him; the walls shook with the friction of stone walls rubbing against each other. The flat was cool. The humidity of late summer trailed down the walls.

Aziraphale was on a mission to find a mister. Not any mister — Crowley’s plant mister. He insisted on it. By insisted, he would slither away from the mister he bought on his own. Crowley, being a supernatural snake of sorts, didn’t molt, but Aziraphale thought he still seemed dry. 

It had not even been 24 hours.

He had to check on the plants, anyway. He’d promised. It had been a few years since he saw his houseplants. Even then, it was out of the corner of his eye during a quick visit. Curiosity gnawed at him. 

Aziraphale gently pressed open the door to the main room. He remembered the velvet-covered chairs which resided in the room; the desk was scattered with various objects. He crossed the room to open the blinds, shaking his head.

“I don’t know how he stands to live here,” he muttered. Streams of light filled the room, illuminating the flat. As he turned around, he noticed a flash of green behind the revolving door.

“The plants!” he announced, clapping his hands together in excitement. 

As he entered the room, he swore the plants had just been trembling. 

“It couldn’t be a breeze…” he thought aloud, “It’s too stuffy in here.” He approached the windows and pulled them open. A breeze blew through the plant room and swayed the leaves of the plants. They seemed to perk up a little, or so Azirapahle imagined. 

“Much better.” He turned around to admire the flaura. Completely flawless leaves smiled up at him, breathing in the fresh air. Azirapahle thumbed a leaf of the nearest plant. It was silky smooth.

“I can’t believe someone like him could be so doting.” He paused. “Well, yes, I could.” 

His eyes darted around every inch of the room as he searched for the mister. He wandered from edge to edge and circled around it. He hummed in puzzlement. He found himself walking down a hallway, face-to-face with a sort of gargoyle. He grimmanced at it.

He looked to where faint light shone through: one of many rooms. This one appeared to be a bathroom. Otherwise spotless, it was covered in hair care products. What caught his eye was a translucent, green bottle. It must be the mister! Green light covered his hand as he took it and gave it a squirt. A fine mist of water flew across the room. Perfect.

He unscrewed it, looking down at it as he approached the sink. Something else in the corner of his eye caught his attention; his tartan thermos peaked out behind a towel. He set the opened mister down to examine it. Tangled in the towels was a pair of tongs. The pile had been left in the very corner as not to be touched. 

Aziraphale gently picked it up, although it was innocuous to him. The thermos was empty, dry, even. He let out a long breath. Somehow, seeing this and knowing Crowley was safe in his shop, made him relax. He tucked the thermos under his arm and filled the plant mister. It nearly slipped his mind to return to the plants and give them attention, as well. As he watered them, he couldn’t help but study them.

“Why, I couldn’t tell those apart from store-bought. You’re all absolutely flawless.”

A feeling hit him like a gentle wave. Love. He glanced around. No one was there, as far as he could tell. 

“Strangest thing,” he mumbled as he finished his job. “Never gotten that from plants before. Much less houseplants.”

Glancing behind him, he returned to the bathroom to refill the mister. He screwed on the cap and let his eyes wander. He snorted in amusement as he saw one thing.

“A rubber duck,” he said. “Oh, Crowley’d get a kick out of that.”

He made sure to reach across the bathtub to add it to his growing collection of things. 

“I’ll tell him Michael stopped by to make sure he got it,” he mused.

He walked through the plant room, deciding on a whim to give the plants a wave goodbye. Another gentle wave of love washed over him. He shook his head, the smile from his humor still stuck on his face.

He couldn’t wait to see Crowley’s reaction, snake or otherwise.  
  
\---  
  


“I found the mister!” Aziraphale announced as he entered the bookshop. The bell above the doorway rung with as much enthusiasm as him. “And I have a surprise for you!” 

No sound, not even the rustling of bedding, answered him. Aziraphale trotted to the back room, craning his neck to see the enclosure. Crowley was curled up, his nose tucked under himself. He was half lying on his favorite rock, which sat directly below the heat lamp.

Aziraphale smiled. He gently reached up and set the rubber duck in a corner.

“Goodnight, sweet prince.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look forward to more snake Crowley in chapter 3!


	3. Snisitors (Snake visitors)

Aziraphale had never been a morning person. From his first days on Earth, he would find himself waking up with the new sun already in the fresh sky. After six thousand years, he had never made an effort to change this.

He was woken subconsciously by knocking. Not realizing what roused him, he slowly blinked opened his eyes. And he screamed.

Just as sleepy, Crowley nearly jumped off of the bed. 

“Goodness sake, Crowley, you scared me!” Azirapahle said, clutching his chest. “What are you doing outside of your enclosure? That’s your room!”

Crowley stared at him, flicking his tongue. Aziraphale looked right back at him and pursed his lips. He was tangled in the blankets on the bed. 

“It’s cold at night, isn’t it?”

Crowley nodded.

“You wily little thing.” Azirapahle sighed, collecting himself. “I’d nearly forgotten you’d changed yourself.” 

He threw up the covers and jumped up. With a snap, he changed from his nightclothes into his usual attire. Crowley followed him to the edge of the bed and looked up at him expectantly. 

“Alright, alright. It’s nearly time to open.” Azirapahle opened his palm. Crowley slithered up his outstretched arm. He wrapped around his shoulders; he positioned himself just right to match Azirapahle’s eye level. Azirapahle smiled and looked at him.

“Ready?”

Crowley nodded.

Aziraphale yawned as he wandered into the shop side of the building. In his periphery, he saw a few shapes in the doorway window. He looked to see the vague shape of heads, expectantly looking into the shop.

“Already? Oh, this place is a mess. I suppose… maybe they won’t notice,” Azirapahle worried to himself. Crowley nudged his cheek. As Azirapahle looked at him, he tilted his head questioningly. 

“It must be… it must be because I announcing having a shop pet on the Face Book,” Azirapahle said. “They must all be here for you!” he concluded. “They want to see the bookshop snake!” 

There was an extra pep in his step as he went to unlock the front door. The patient patrons’ faces lit up as they saw Crowley perched on his shoulder. Although none of the eyes were on him, Azirapahle’s smile was brimming with pride. 

“Welcome, welcome!” 

A group of teenagers quickly crowded around him, cooing over the snake.

“What’s its name?”

“Can I hold him?”

“What kind of snake is he?”

“Does he bite?”

“Okay, okay, one at a time,” Aziraphale said, holding up his hands. “His name is Crowley, and he’s a red-bellied black snake. I promise you, he will not bite.”

Crowley stretched out toward them. His tongue flickered like mad. No one could agree on who should pet him first.

“Uh, why don’t I bring out his enclosure?” Aziraphale interrupted. “Then you can all watch him.” He didn’t wait for an answer before he slipped away from them. He gave Crowley an exasperated look and he made a beeline for the back. 

He was able to pick up and carry the large terrarium because he was an angel. As he waddled into the shop, a few teenage girls giggled at his form. He held back a scowl and found a free table to set it on. As he did, he put one arm over the top, and Crowley slithered in. The group circled the glass. 

“If you need me, I’ll be at the counter,” Aziraphale said. They were already not paying attention. They were too distracted by Crowley crawling up the sides of the glass, stretching himself out under he toppled over. 

As the hour passed, the typical customers trickled in. A few rubbernecked at the new tank in the middle of the room. Others didn’t seem to notice. Others still glared at the crowd invading their cozy hideaway. A content smile on his face, Aziraphale watched everything take place.

The morning, aside from the influx of visitors, continued like normally. Crowley entertained the patrons. Some left once their curiosity had been sated, but others wandered into the shelves of the bookstore. Soft voices hilled the modest shop, and Aziraphale figured it has been busier than it has been in decades. 

Maybe taking care of a snake would have more perks than he expected. Especially a self-reliant one.

What caught his attention was a rare site in his shop: a child. They couldn’t have been older than eight, and they cowered meekly behind their father. The man approached him.

“Are you the owner of this store?” he asked.

“Why, yes, I am,” Aziraphale grinned. 

“This is kind of a weird question, but, uh…” He glanced down to his child. “Millie here has never seen a real life snake before. We were wondering if she could look at yours.”

“Oh, Crowley _loves_ children,” Aziraphale said a little too honestly. “Of course.”

“She’s a bit nervous…” The father started.

“Oh, no need to worry. Crowley could not be more friendly.”

Millie peeked around his father’s side. Her eyes were glued to the enclosure, which for the time being was relatively free of gawkers. Aziraphale reached in and pulled out Crowley. She slowly approached but kept a safe distance.

Crowley nosed his way closer to the girl. His eyes were as wide as disks. She held out a hesitant hand and tapped him on the nose. He responded with a playful flick of his tongue. She giggled.

“You can pet him,” Aziraphale said gently, as though his voice would break the atmosphere. Millie nodded. She gingerly held her hand out again, and Crowley pressed his nose into her palm. Her smile grew as wide as her eyes as she silently stroked his head. 

“This is perfect, thank you so much,” the father whispered to Aziraphale.

“No worries at all. This is good for him.”

They stood there in unbreaking silence for a while as Millie gave Crowley attention. Just as Aziraphale’s arms started to ache with time, the father spoke up.

“Why don’t we go look at the books now, Millie?”

Millie looked at him, looked at Crowley, looked at the books, and looked back at him. She nodded. She gave Crowley one last pat on the head and scurried off into the shelves. Her father could only give Azirapahle another smile of thanks before he hurried off after her. 

“That was the most _adorable_ thing I think I’ve ever seen,” Aziraphale said. 

Crowley wasn’t listening, still watching the little girl. She only then started to talk, and she could be faintly heard saying, “Did you see that, Daddy? He liked me!”

Aziraphale smiled. His eyes swept the bustling bookshop. People, amazingly, were looking at books, and they seemed interested!

Oh, no. They seemed interested.

In the few centuries Aziraphale had owned his bookshop, he could not be more proud to say that he had never once sold a book. He was too attached, and then it became like a quest. He looked over to see a customer already standing at the counter with an antique cash register on it. Said cash register had never been used. 

He quickly approached the customer. “I’m sorry, that book isn’t for sale,” he said through gritted teeth, nearly pulling the book from their grasp. “It’s too old, you see, it’s more like a museum piece. Very fragile.”

Before they could respond, another person tapped him on the shoulder.

“What’s the price on this book?” they asked.

“Oh, um, let me check.” Aziraphale rushed behind the counter and pretended he was looking for something. He ducked down out of sight.

“Goodness, Crowley, I don’t think I can avoid all of these potential customers!” Azirapahle murmured to him. “We need to think of a distraction.” He returned to face the growing line of customers. 

“I’m having trouble with the cash register!” he lied. He let out a nervous laugh. “It won’t seem to open.”

“Here, let me see that,” offered a customer toward the front of the line.

“Oh, no, that’s not really necessary,” Aziraphale started.

“I’ve worked retail for years,” the customer said. “No register I couldn’t fix.”

“Please, sir—”

The day was, again, interrupted by Aziraphale crying out.

The customer took a step back. Crowley was latched onto Aziraphale’s hand. A customer further back in line screamed, taking a handful of others with her out the door. Aziraphale jerked his arms back in surprise, but Crowley held tight, his fangs in deep.

“Uh, everyone!” Aziraphale called out, his voice laced with pain. “Bookshop’s closed! Very sorry!” He turned around, and Crowley let go of his hand. He left two deep holes, although the wound was dry. Angels had no use for blood, after all. Aziraphale clamped his other hand over the spot to conceal it.

“Sir,” a customer said.

“I’m alright,” Aziraphale said.

“Your snake just bit you,” the customer said.

“I’m not even bleeding!” Aziraphale said as he turned around. “Didn’t even break the skin. Just hurts like the dickens.”

The customer examined the skin around his hand. “Well, I guess I don’t see any blood…”

“See? I must bid you a good day while I… reprimand my snake.”

“I should call 999,” another patron said, “those red-bellied snakes are venomous.”

“No, no, no 999,” Aziraphale insisted. “I’ll be perfectly fine. No ambulance or doctors. Just let me be so I can bandage it.”

“But—”

“Now!” Aziraphale said, his voice that of a commanding angel.

The costumers reeled back in shock. All but the most concerned customer left. Even they started to turn. “If you’re not sure, see a doctor,” they offered before they proceeded to leave.

Aziraphale waited for the last of them to go, and he locked the front doors, flipping over the sign to “CLOSED.” He drew his curtains. He hurried to the nearest table, pulled Crowley off of himself, and set him down.

“What in the love of everything _possessed_ you to do that?” he yelled.

Crowley started to shift. His skinny body grew and he shuffled to the end of the table. Within moments, humanoid Crowley sat on the edge of the counter. 

“You asked me to help!” Crowley said, crossing his legs atop of each other.

“I didn’t ask you to _bite m_ e,” Aziraphale said. “Just because I’m an angel doesn’t mean it doesn’t _hurt_.”

“I’m sorry, angel, I really am,” Crowley said, his eyebrows knotting together in concern. “But what else was I supposed to do? Start a little song and dance? Turn into a lizard? Bite a customer?”

“No, no, no.” Aziraphale huffed. “You did… you did get the job done. But I’m not happy.”

“You’re not happy,” Crowley repeated.

“Look at this!” Aziraphale showed him his hand. Crowley flinched at the holes that stared back at him. 

“Well, I’m pretty sure angels are immune to neurotoxin, anyway,” he said. 

“You better be glad we are!” 

Aziraphale tilted his chin away from him. His lips tightened into a frown. He crossed his arms and tapped his foot as if contemplating what to do. 

“Look, ‘Zira. I’m sorry.”

“Zira? That’s new.”

“You don’t like it?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “I don’t care,” even though, he did, in fact care.

“Come here.”

Aziraphale stood still.

“Come oooooon.” Crowley slid off the table. “You’re just being stubborn.”

Aziraphale said nothing.

“Lemme see that.” Crowley pulled his arm out from against his chest. He took ahold of the bitten hand. He drew it close and eyed the wounds. He squinted at them for a moment. Then, gently, he leaned down and kissed it. 

Aziraphale jerked his hand away. “Crowley!”

“Good as new,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale looked down at his hand. It was flawless; there wasn’t a hint of a scar. He had to touch it to make sure. He looked up to Crowley’s face. It was crossed by a smirk.

“See? Everything’s a-okay.”

If Aziraphale had blood, it would be rushing to his face.

“Thank, thank you,” he stuttered out. “I suppose it is all okay.” He nervously laughed, and his smile was contagious. 

“Of course.”

Aziraphale rubbed at his hand. He couldn’t seem to keep eye contact with the ever-staring demon.

“You know, somebody may call Animal Control.”

“Ah, let them,” Crowley said. “They won’t find the snake anywhere, no matter how hard they search.” He smiled. “Not unless, maybe, that kid comes back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you know how limited snakes’ body language is? The fun of being a writer is asking yourself, how would a demon in the form of a snake communicate? He can’t even blink.
> 
> Go check out Blueleaf12's "Love? Heavens, No!" Which is a spiritual sequel to my one shot "Romance is Hell." It has two chapters!


	4. The Snookshop (Snake Bookshop)

That afternoon, the bookstore stayed closed.

Aziraphale went to check on the plants, as he’d promised. Crowley, still in his humanoid form, could not convince him otherwise. Crowley could look after the store, he said, while he was gone. Someone had to deal with potential customers.

Crowley was used to him being such an introvert. 

The moment the door shut, Crowley was already restless. He found himself pacing the room. His enclosure looked nice and cozy, but he decided against bathing in the heat lamp. He poked the rubber duck and smiled.

“Nice touch,” he murmured to himself. 

He took out his favorite rock and rubbed it against his jacket before replacing it. What to do? Surely, Aziraphale was at his flat spoiling his plants.

Aziraphale was at his flat, where he could see all of his belongings. Snoop all he wanted. And Aziraphale was curious enough to do it, wasn’t he? He would look around at all of his things scattered about. _Crowley_ was the demon, and _Crowley_ was the one who should be the snoop, shouldn’t he?

That’s how he convinced himself, anyway.

Crowley wandered into the main part of the bookshop. He had seen it plenty of times before. However, he had only once before been here alone, and he hadn’t had the time to look around. The books were in no discernable order, except for maybe age. The farther back he went, the thicker the dust which coated the books. The edges of their spines were perfectly aligned along the edge of the shelves. Crowley ran a finger down a row of looks, leaving a clean line in its wake. 

“Maybe you could afford to sell a few,” Crowley murmured. He could not feel love as his angel did, but he could feel something else: longing. Casual customers and collectors alike craved his books. But he never felt the frustration of shrinking space or growing records. Surely, he thought, Aziraphale loved his books more than any human ever would.

“Seems to be taking a while,” Crowley observed as he waltzed to the back room. “Hope he didn’t get distracted.” 

He hovered around Aziraphale’s desk. It was cluttered with more books, papers, and a variety of knick-knacks from over the centuries. He opened a drawer on the left-hand side of the desk. It was overflowing with paperwork. He grimaced and struggled to get papers back in. He closed it with a huff. Next was the right drawer. He pulled. It didn’t budge.

He tilted his head. He pulled it again. Nothing. He raised an eyebrow. He lifted his hand and snapped. Still, it stayed shut.

“I’ll be blessed,” Crowley said. “He _locked_ it. Like, really locked it. Key and everything.” 

His eyes scanned the desktop of any signs of the key. He spotted one, but it was far too modern to fit the ancient desk.

“What in the world would he _lock?”_

He rummaged around in his pockets. Old habits die hard; he always had a few bobby pins loitering in them. He grinned and kneeled down to drawer level. He hadn’t been the first to try lockpicking, but he was the first to figure it out with a hair accessory.

“Come to Crowley,” he whispered. Within seconds, the lock clicked open. His eyes were near circular with excitement as he pulled it open.

Inside was a large book. Crowley frowned. He picked it up. Nothing was written on any side of the leather-bound tome, but it was worn. He flipped through the pages, and his eyes barely caught a flash of the name “Crowley.” He stopped and tried to find the page he spotted. The words were written in impossibly neat, small handwriting.

> 28 November 1963 C.E.
> 
> Dear Diary,
> 
> The parasol I lent Crowley seems to have caused quite a stir in America. Another President had been assassinated, and they’re scurrying all around the place trying to figure out who exactly did it. The silly demon wore all black during his visit. I told him it would draw attention. The black parasol would make it even worse.
> 
> “It would stick out even more if it was a different color!” he told me. Can you believe him? Who uses a black parasol? Texas is terribly hot from what I’ve heard.

“What in the fresh heaven?” Crowley stopped reading and flipped to the first page. In big letters, it had been written: 

DIARY OF AN ANGEL

By A.Z. Fell

He turned to the first entry.

> 13 April 1952 C.E.
> 
> Dear Diary,
> 
> My name is Aziraphale. I am a Principality of The Great Almighty. I was inspired to keep a journal by the late young Anne Frank. Her diary came into my bookshop, and I was absolutely captivated. My hope is that this collection may be just as portentous as hers, although more likely it will be the inane blatherings of an old Angel. Perhaps some day this will be of use to historians of some future era. 
> 
> I should begin with, well, The Beginning. There is a lot of controversy surrounding the Beginning of Everything, and I believe there are some things I can clarify. 

“Know this already,” Crowley said. He flipped forward a few pages. Somewhere, a bell jingled. Crowley jumped. Aziraphale was back already? He shut the book, but not before his eye caught his name again: “My Dearest Crowley.” He had no choice but to thrust the book back into the drawer and shut it away. 

“Act casual,” he whispered to himself. He jumped on the arm rest of the nearest chair and folded his legs over each other. He flicked his tongue out as he did as a snake. 

Aziraphale trotted to the back room. He looked much happier than before he left; Crowley hoped he had forgotten about the bite.

“How are the plants?” Crowley asked.

“Just as lovely as always,” Aziraphale said. “I don’t know how you — What are you doing with your tongue?”

Crowley stopped, his tongue halfway out of his mouth. 

“Uh, habit.”

“That’s not really how you smell, is it?” Aziraphale asked.

“No, angel,” Crowley said, “I have one of these, you know.” He pointed at his nose.

“Right,” Aziraphale said. “Of course.” He glanced around the place. “No customers, then?”

“Dead silent.”

“Alright. I guess you’ve chased them off for a while,” Aziraphale laughed.

“S’pose I have.”

Aziraphale’s face tensed. His eyes studied the floorboards.

“Listen, Crowley, about today—”

“I figured. You’ve had your go at a snake pet.” He started to pull himself off of the arm rest.

“No, just the opposite!” Aziraphale stopped him. “I want you to stay.”

“You want me to _what?”_

“I want you to stay.” Aziraphale sighed. “We’ve been dancing around spending time together for six thousand years. It’s… nice to see you. I tend to hermit in this little shop of mine, and… Maybe a snake would do good for me.” He flashed a smile but had a hard time keeping it up.

“You mean it?”

“Someone’s got to help me take care of the place, don’t you think?”

Crowley smiled. “You’re growing soft, Aziraphale.”

“I am soft,” Aziraphale stated. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll stick around for a little while.” Crowley smiled and winked. In record time, he shrunk down to a snake. He curled himself into a spiral on the arm rest. 

“I still can’t believe you some times,” Aziraphale said. He scooped up Crowley and held him up to his shoulders. “Why don’t we go for a little walk?” 

Crowley climbed his way around Aziraphale’s shoulders. Aziraphale tossed his keys onto the desk. He paused. The drawer was ever so slightly open. He pulled it open an inch, pushed it back closed, and reached for the keys.

“I must be going mad,” he mumbled.

Crowley flicked his tongue innocently. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fun chapter to write.


	5. The Snark (Snake Park)

There was nothing man-made Aziraphale loved more than sweets. It was fitting, he figured. Like many an inhabitant of Earth, he liked to imagine he was also made of sugar, spice, and everything nice. Angels weren’t pulled out of the earth, after all. At the time, there was no earth for them to come from.

Late at night, he was nose-deep in a book and halfway through a chocolate bar. Crowley was half wrapped like neglected earbud wires around his arms and half basking in the heat of the reading lamp. His head wrapped back around to look at the book. Aziraphale couldn’t be sure if he was reading along or not, but he made sure the book was angled to give him light. 

The book so consumed the angel, it took a chapter to finish a square of chocolate. Not that it was horribly long; he had been practicing reading since humans invented the hobby. Every so often Crowley would nudge his chocolate hand. Without looking away from the words, Aziraphale would break off a piece of chocolate and hold it out for him. Between the two of them, they had increased to the rate of two squares per chapter. 

They were only interrupted by the sound of the front door struggling against its lock. Aziraphale sighed. 

“Is it that time already?”

He looked over his shoulder to see sunlight peeking out from behind the curtains. It was whatever time he had written on the schedule, surely. Late night had turned to early morning. He snapped his fingers, and the locks turned. The overhead bell rang with early visitors. Aziraphale didn’t stir. 

Less than a chapter later, there was a knock on the door frame. 

“Mr. Fell?” a patron asked. 

“Yes?” Azriphale answered without looking away. 

“Can you help — uh, I don’t think snakes are supposed to eat chocolate.” 

Aziraphale slowly set the chocolate bar on the desk, put his book face down, and turned around.

“Don’t you worry,” he said with a strained customer service voice, “I assure you my snake will be perfectly fine. He’s a special variety, you see. Can eat just about anything.”

The customer muddled around with potential responses. Their mouth hung open for a moment before they said, “never mind.” They turned their back and left as if the previous moments had not occured, flabbergasted.

“Well, the day’s barely begun and I’m already fed up with customers. It’s time for a walk, don’t you think?” he asked Crolwey with a smile.

Crowley flicked his tongue.

Aziraphale slipped a scrap paper into his book and clapped it shut. The book was set gently on the counter, and Aziraphale reached out for Crowley’s company. As Crowley slithered around his frame, Aziraphale went to the back door. There was a red box hung on the wall. FIRE. He pulled the white lever on it. It triggered, as expected, a fire alarm. Aziraphale waltzed out the door without looking back.

Crowley tapped his shoulder with the end of his tail and gave him the best confounded look he could muster.

“Ah, it’s fine, Crowley. I set it on a timer so it’ll turn off in three minutes once they’re all gone. Works like a charm.”

Crowley shook his head. He continued to snake his way around him; he finally rested his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder with a sigh.

“Saint James’s, per usual?” Aziraphale asked.

The park was a mere twenty minute walk from the bookshop. Aziraphale earned many strange looks from passersby, but he minded none of them. He was used to centuries of strange looks. 

“...so, that’s why I think English is the best of the languages humans have spun up,” Azriaphale concluded as they arrived at their usual spot. He sat down on their favorite bench, a smug look lingering on his face. It evolved into a smile as he looked around the park. The summer’s heat left the grass tall and green, and the other plants just as happy. 

“Ah,” he said, settling in. “What a beautiful day.” He pointed at the water. “And look! Our duck friends are here!” 

A small crowd of ducks waddled over to Aziraphale. Tales of his snacks had been passed down for generations. They quacked at him in anticipation.

“Alright, alright.” Aziraphale miracled a handful of peas and tossed them into the grass. The ducks scattered, collecting as many peas as they could manage. 

“You know, I’m still not happy about that time you brought them bread. You know that stuff’s bad for them.”

Crowley ignored him. He untangled himself and slid down into the grass. He intermingled himself among the waterfowl, still distracted by their peas.

“Aw, look at you, spending quality time—” Aziraphale started. Crowley nudged a duck on its side, and the duck promptly panicked. It started a chain reaction; each of the ducks noticed the large, black snake in the grass. They fled to the water.

“Crowley! What did you do that for?” 

He slithered over to a lone, oblivious duck off to the side. He poked it in the same manner, sending it flying into the air.

“You mischievous _thing,”_ Aziraphale huffed. He half-heartedly tossed another handful of peas closer to the edge of the water, but no ducks dared. He finally sat back and watched Crowley with his arms crossed.

Crowley found even yet a larger duck to scare. This duck, however, was not a duck but a much more intimidating goose. Crowley nudged it. The goose turned around to look at him. Crowley hissed. The goose flared its wings. Realizing his mistake, Crowley shot out toward Aziraphale. The angel lifted his legs from the ground, leaving him no place to climb up. He watched as the goose chased Crowley meters and meters from their spot before Crowley found himself up a tree.

The goose stayed, honking at the snake and shaking its wings at him. Crowley hissed at it again, but the goose was not daunted. They went back and forth for a while, until the goose decided it had done its job. 

When the goose left, Aziraphale took his time making his way to the tree. Crowley stared down at him, nervously flicking his tongue in and out. He glanced around for the goose’s return.

“That’s what you get for messing with birds,” Aziraphale said, finally offering him a hand. Crowley hurried down his arm. The moment he reached safety, he forced himself to lay casually around his shoulders.

“Acting cool, eh?”

Crowley would not look at him.

“Well, I suppose that’s our cue to leave.” 

Aziraphale snapped another pile of peas back at the water’s edge. Now the ducks took attention, gingerly approaching them. As he turned his back to the park, found Crowley’s head and scratched him. He could feel his tense muscles relax.

“Silly little demon,” he murmured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you just gotta spend quality time with your snake boyfriend.  
> I’ve been too busy to write much recently, so in lieu I’ve been contemplating where I want this to go. And trust me, I have some chapters just waiting to be written :)


	6. Snecrets (Snake Secrets)

Crowley had become quite good at being a snake. Not that he wasn’t always, in essence, a snake. But he had learned how to function without the use of hands and feet. A few times he briefly transformed into a chimera of sorts out of laziness, but those days were fast behind him.

Leaving his enclosure was laughable. Climbing up a desk leg was elementary. Picking up a key with his mouth was manageable. It was another thing altogether to use it to unlock a drawer. 

His head dangled limply over the side of the desk. He had learned to hold on to something from the first time he tried this. He blindly swished his tail to find a column to grasp. Once secured, he bent himself toward the keyhole. His neck was barely flexible enough to pull it off, but the lock was overcome with a click. He let go of the key, still in the lock, and pulled his head back onto the desk. 

He loosened his grip on the column and wrapped his tail around the drawer’s handle. With careful force, he pulled the drawer open. He slithered his way in. He could barely fit the first part of himself into the tiny compartment. His tail wrapped around to open the front cover of the diary. He flipped through to a random page which caught his eye.

> 12 June 2015 C.E.
> 
> Dear Diary,
> 
> Today has been an absolutely atrocious day. I am a horrible human. Why did Crowley agree to this? I’m not used to being out with people watching me. 
> 
> Warlock saw me miracle some dirt off of my clothes. Being a gardener is so dirty. I should’ve been the nanny, not Crowley. He’s used to crawling around in the dirt. I am a sophisticated Angel of the Heavens. 
> 
> Of course the child wanted an explanation for this miracle. I panicked. He can’t know I’m an Angel! Oh, Lord, would I be in trouble. I barely dare to write Her name in this diary lest She finds out. 
> 
> I told dear Warlock that I am a wizard and I made a magic spell to clean the dirt off. He believed me. I hate lying to poor Warlock. I don’t have any other choice! As a child of extraordinary creativity like himself, he loves that popular wizard book series out now. Now I’ve convinced him the wizards are real. I told him I was taught magic during my gardening apprenticeship. Now I have to pretend I know what herbs do.
> 
> Then he asked me if he was a wizard!! Before I even said yes, he concluded that was why he was named Warlock! He can’t wait to go to wizard school. He won’t stop saying he can’t wait until he’s eleven and gets his letter.
> 
> He won’t stop saying he can’t wait until he’s eleven.
> 
> I miss my bookshop.

Crowley flipped a few pages over.   


> 31 November 2015 C.E.
> 
> Dear Diary,
> 
> After Warlock fell asleep, Crowley came out to visit me tonight. The two of us often discuss how the boy is doing, whether he seems more good or more bad or simply average. Tonight was different. There was something in her eyes. She seemed… tired. 
> 
> Now that I see her on more of a daily basis, I’ve noticed a lot about her which I hadn’t before. She can be very charismatic when she wants to be. I suppose you have to be as a demon. She has a way of convincing the Americans of things. The one thing she can’t, though, is bring in a kitten. I spotted her once feeding one scraps. It was black with yellow eyes like her. Part of me wonders if it’s a cohort of hers, or if she has a soft spot for the familiar.
> 
> Sometimes she will bring me books she finds in the estate. Yesterday she brought me ‘The Great Gatsby’ and said it looked like something I would like. She knows me well. I’ve always enjoyed it. It brings me back to the 20s. It’s the only time I regret never making it to America. The aesthetic of Art Deco was delightful. I still have a first edition copy of the novel signed by Fitzgerald himself. 
> 
> Something about it reminded me of her. Back in the day, she was a flapper. Her curly hair was perfect for it. That wasn’t the Crowley it reminded me of, though. Crowley is more like the titular Gatsby. Tonight, I saw a certain longing in her eyes. As if she wanted something more than nannying a child. I feel the same, of course. We didn’t choose this. Well, perhaps we did, but it was an ultimatum with her kind. Still, reading the lines ‘Then it had not been merely the stars to which he had aspired to… He came alive to me, delivered suddenly from the womb of his purposeless splendour,’ makes me envision her.
> 
> I wonder what lies behind her green light.

Crowley paused. His eyes traced back and forth over the words. He thought to himself,  _ “...one of those rare smiles with a quality of ethereal reassurance in it…”  _

The front door rattled. Crowley stiffened. He closed the diary and quickly slithered back onto the desk. He looked at the drawer and the key and his enclosure. Not enough time. He closed the drawer and started his way down the desk.

“Guess who I ran into!” Aziraphale called out as he entered the shop.

By the time Aziraphale and his guests made their way to the back room, Crowley was looking at them through the glass of the enclosure. 

“Remember Millie?” Aziraphale asked. Behind him, Millie was clinging onto her father’s hand. Her eyes widened when she saw him. She looked up at her dad. He nodded. 

She stepped over to the enclosure and peeked in. Crowley looked up at her, his tongue flicking with equal amounts of excitement and fear. His heart gradually slowed as his adrenaline wore off.

“I was walking back from, uh, taking care of the plants and just happened to run into these two!” Aziraphale said. The father smiled at him, and Aziraphale realized he was talking to a snake. In a panic, Aziraphale winked. He was obviously, naturally, undoubtedly, speaking to the animal because a child was in the room. 

“Hi Crowley,” Millie said softly. Crowley raised himself up toward her. She reached her hand in and started to pat him. The two others’ faces softened as they watched.

“So, you have any kids?” the father asked softly. 

“What?” Aziraphale took a moment to respond. “Me?”

“Yeah, you.”

“Uh, no.”

“Ever married?”

“I… no, I haven’t been.”

"Really? Lifelong bachelor, then?"

"I suppose that would define me as such," Aziraphale answered with a nervous smile. 

"My name is Cory, by the way." He held out a hand. Aziraphale hesitantly took it.

"You can call me Mr. Fell."

“I can’t thank you enough for being so hospitable, Mr. Fell.”

“Really, it’s no problem.”

“She wouldn’t stop talking about her visit with the snake.”

They both paused and focused back on her and Crowley. Crowley wove his way around her arms, and she spoke quiet words to him. 

“Looks like they’re fast friends,” Aziraphale smiled. 

“Listen,” Cory said. “Could I ask you a favor?”

Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows, and then looked at him with a slight smile.

“What could I help you with?”

“Millie’s class has a show and tell of sorts. A student is supposed to bring something important each day. Her day is coming up, and… I can’t make it. Work, ya know? But I had the idea…” He shook his head. “It’s asking a lot.”

“What is it?” Aziraphale coaxed.

“Could you bring the snake for her? I don’t know who else to ask, and because she’s really taken to it. She gets really invested in these kinds of things and I don’t…” He sighed. “You’re a stranger. Forget it.”

“No!” Aziraphale said. “Oh, that would be no problem, I assure you.”

“No, really…”

“I insist,” Aziraphale smiled. “I’d love to.”

He looked to Crowley. Oblivious to the conversation, he hung loosely in Millie’s arms. She stroked his scaly head, eyes fixated on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a big book nerd, which helps when writing a gargantuan book nerd like Aziraphale. 
> 
> I finished all of my graduate school applications, which means more time to write for me! Yay!


	7. Snake and Tell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning — this chapter and a few following include scenes with bullying with ableist undertones. Tags have been added accordingly.

Aziraphale had somehow, in his endless array of clutter, found a cat carrier. He filled it with the softest blanket he had. He carefully placed a hot water bottle on the side. He snuck the favorite rock into it. With all of this genius forethought, it only took two hours to convince Crowley to voluntarily get in. 

Next time, he decided, he wouldn’t give him the choice. 

The travel to the school was much quicker. Without his miracles rationed by the angels upstairs, Aziraphale had no problem making it precisely on time. He lingered outside the classroom door, unable to contain the smile quivering on his lips. Restlessness danced in his feet. 

“Okay, everyone give a warm welcome to Millie’s visitor today, Mr. Fell and… Crowley,” came a voice from the doorway.

Aziraphale glanced at the room at the mention of his pseudonym, and he looked again as it registered. “Oh!” he realized. He finally let his smile loose and marched through the door.

Two people were immediately to his right; the teacher stood next to the words “Mr. Fell and Crowley” neatly handwritten on the board. Millie was on the closer end of the board, eyes glued to the floor. She flashed Aziraphale a smile. She was trembling.

Twenty-some pairs of eyes stared blankly forward. Aziraphale spotted an empty desk in the front row. He grabbed it, letting loose sharp sounds as it scraped across the linoleum. He hefted the cat carrier onto the desk. 

“Hello, children!” he announced.

“Why don’t you introduce yourself—” the teacher started.

“I’m so happy for you to meet my best friend,” Aziraphale opened the door, “Crowley!” He reached an arm into the carrier, and Crowley slithered up.

The class gasped. One child screamed. Another went  _ “sick.” _ Aziraphale beamed at them as Crowley gradually wiggled the rest of his body free. 

“Wow, Mr. Fell, what an interesting friend you have! What can you tell us about him?” the teacher tried. 

Aziraphale offered his arm to Millie. She glanced up at him, then reached out her own arm. Crowley happily crossed the bridge to her. The class erupted again with amazement. 

“He’s going to eat her!”

“She’s so brave!”

“Wow, what a freak.”

The last comment caught Crowley’s attention. It was followed by a circle of giggling. Crowley gave the girl who said it a glare. She didn’t notice.

“Of course Millie’s only friends are an old man and his snake,” the girl laughed.

“Bethany!” The teacher snapped at the girl. The girl better known as Beth muttered sorry and subtly rolled her eyes. The mention of her birth name barely smudged her smirk.

“What can you tell us about Crowley, Millie?” the teacher coaxed.

“He’s a red-bellied black snake,” she said. She looked at Aziraphale as she spoke. “They’re native to Australia, but he lives in a bookshop with Mr. Fell. He’s venomous, but most snakes like him are too tame to bite.”

“Venomous?” the teacher nervously asked. 

“Red-bellied black snakes don’t lay eggs,” Millie continued. “They give birth to live young.”

Groans of disgust echoed from the class. 

“And when they’re threatened, they can flatten their necks to look bigger.”

“That’s very good, Millie. Looks like you’ve learned a lot from Mr. Fell.”

“And he’s friendly!” Millie beamed. Crowley looked to the children and gave his most innocent face. 

“Gross,” Beth mumbled. The girls around her seconded her. 

“He loves kids,” Aziraphale said. “May I show him around the class?” 

“I’m not sure if—”

Aziraphale grabbed Crowley from Millie’s shoulders and plopped him on the desk of the closest student. Their eyes opened wide. Crowley licked his tongue at their tentative hand. 

“He’s smelling you, like a dog,” Millie said. 

That made her classmate smile. They let Crowley investigate them more. Hesitantly, they stroked his scaley head.

As soon as he was no longer a potential threat, other students gathered around Crowley. Tiny hands poked at every inch of him. He slithered around the desk, startling some and mesmerizing others. His slitted eyes grew round with exuberance. A few children laughed. 

“He’s so cool!” the first student said.

Millie grinned up Aziraphale. He returned her smile with a wink.

“Let me see,” Bethany said at the edges of the crowd. A couple girls parted, and she shuffled her way in. Crowley saw her immediately. He reared his head back and hissed, spit flying in her direction. 

“Okay, okay, show time’s over,” the teacher panicked and shooed the students away from the desk. Crowley was once again wide-eyed and mild, but the teacher still yanked him away. She lugged him to Aziraphale. 

“Thank you, Mr. Fell, but we have to get on with our schedule,” she said through gritted teeth. 

“Of course,” Aziraphale smiled obliviously. “Do you want to say goodbye, Millie?” 

Millie reached out her hand, and Crowley pressed his muzzle into it. She let out another laugh. He swiveled around and looked at Aziraphale before nosing his way toward the cat carrier. 

“You’re sure being docile,” Aziraphale murmured to him as he opened the gate for him. Crowley disappeared as quickly as he had emerged. Millie gave him one last wave goodbye before the gate closed behind him. 

“Okay, everyone, take your seats, please,” the teacher pleaded as Aziraphale packed up. Millie gave him one last look before she returned to her seat. Although she seemed shaken, a subte skip in her step bounced her curls. 

“Mission accomplished,” Aziraphale said to himself as he crossed the threshold out of the classroom and into his bookshop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> His best quality: his wiggles.  
> Two chapters this time around!! I was so excited for Chapter 8, I wrote it first. Enjoy.


	8. The Snuncle (Snake Uncle)

“Urgh,” Aziraphale said.

“Oh, cut it out,” Crowley said.

“I will not, ‘cut it out,’” Aziraphale replied, “I’m doing this for you, after all.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Then why don’t you do it?”

“Maybe I will. Here, you’re doing it wrong anyway.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Then stop complaining.”

Crowley watched Aziraphale with a sharp eye. His angel was hunched over, diligently cleaning out his enclosure. Aziraphale was donned with dish gloves over rolled-up sleeves.

“I’m not even a mortal snake. I don’t  _ do  _ anything,” Crowley said. 

“Do you want mold?” 

“Nnn…. no.” 

“Good. Neither do I.” Aziraphale grabbed the glass cleaner and went to work.

“You know that stuff’s toxic, right?”

“You’re not even a mortal snake.” 

“Touché.”

Crowley rubbed his sunglasses against his shirt. Somehow, even though he had not worn them in weeks, they had magically become smudged. He started to wonder if the constant inconvenience was somehow his doing.

“Those kids loved you,” Aziraphale said.

“Okay, angel, answer me honestly,” Crowley said, raising his sunglasses to the light, “Did you just do that to make up for the magic show?”

_ “No,” _ Azriaphale answered a little too quickly. “Of course not.” 

_ “Zira,” _ Crowley scolded.

“Okay, okay,” Aziraphale sighed. “But it worked, didn’t it? Rabbits are old news, I s’pose. Kids like snakes these days.”

“Uh-huh.” Crowley breathed wet air onto the lenses.

The bell to the front doors jingled. Azirphale glanced at Crowley. It was Saturday — they were never open on the weekends. 

“We’re closed,” he called out in the vague direction of the sound. Quick footsteps patted closer. Before Aziraphale could stand up, the figure rushed into the room.

Upon seeing the strange man, Millie stopped instantly. Her wide eyes dashed from his face to the rest of him, unable to keep her focus any one place. She clutched a baking pan to her chest. Then, all at once, her confusion bloomed into joy.

“Crowley!” she exclaimed. “You’re a person!”

“Oh, oh dear,” Azriaphale muttered. He raised his hand to snap, but Crowley pushed it down. He kneeled down to Millie’s level. His yellow eyes wouldn’t look into hers.

“Ah, looks like you caught me!” Crowley said. “How did you know it was me?”

“You’re all lanky. Like how you like to lay as a snake.”

“Ah. I knew you were clever.”

Millie giggled. 

“What are you here for? The bookshop’s closed, you know.”

“Oh!” She turned to Aziraphale. “These are to say thank you for coming to school yesterday.” She thrust the pan toward him. Still flabbergasted, Azirphale took the pan and peeled up a corner of the foil cover.

“Brownies!” he smiled. “I love brownies.” He took a deep breath in through his nose and hummed in contentment. “Thank you, little one.” 

Millie clapped her hands together in excitement.

“Now, listen, Millie,” Crowley said. “I need to tell you something extremely important.”

She nodded. 

“No one’s supposed to know I’m the snake, okay? It’s very, very secret. Top secret. Confidential. I could get in  _ big  _ trouble if anyone knew. You understand?”

She nodded again.

“Okay. Before I tell you anything more,  _ anything _ , you have to promise that you will never, ever, tell  _ anyone  _ about this. Not your teacher, not your classmates, and not even your dad. Got it?” 

She gaped at him. Crowley glanced at Aziraphale.

“Not to uh, scare you. It’ll just be our little secret, okay? Uncle Crowley will make sure everything is just fine.”

“Uncle?” Azirapahle scoffed. 

_ “Shh,” _ Crowley hissed. “What do you say? Promise?”

Millie paused. Then, she smiled.

“Pinkie Promise,” she said, holding hers out in offering. Aziraphale clutched his chest and smiled. Crowley, still deadpan, hooked his pinkie around hers. 

“Pinkie Promise.” 

Millie jumped up and down in place. Her face was alight. 

“Now,” Crowley said, “You should probably go back to your father.”

“But Uncle Crowley,”

“No buts! We can always talk next time you come. But we don’t want him to be suspicious, do we?”

She shook her head. She scurried out of the room and straight out the front doors. Crowley and Azirphale watched the bell overhead jingle back and forth. 

“What a bloody mess," Aziraphale said.

"It'll be fine, angel. She's a good kid. She won't tell."

"How do you  _ know? _ Maybe not now, but who knows—"

"She's a child. No one will believe her. They'll say she has a good imagination or assume I'm some imaginary friend. Adults never listen to children, really."

"You do have a point…"

They were interrupted again by the bell jingling again. Without hesitation, Crowley instantly turned himself back into a snake. Aziraphale peaked his head around the corner. He just barely saw Cory looking around the entrance.

"Hello?" he called out.

"Oh, hello!" Aziraphale approached him, closing the door to the back room behind him. "I just saw your daughter."

"I know. I was waiting for her outside."

"I see. Do you need something else from me?" Aziraphale's voice squeaked with repressed anxiety.

"I just wanted to thank you, too." Cory's face softened. "This means a lot to her, but a lot to me, too. You can probably guess she has a hard time being social. The snake has helped her open up a little. Every little bit helps."

Aziraphale smiled, letting go of his breath. "Of course."

"How was she? When she gave you the brownies?"

"She was a perfect, proper little girl," Aziraphale said truthfully.

"Wonderful." Cory flashed a wider smile. "I'm sure you'll be seeing us again soon. She hasn't had a special interest like this in a while."

"You're always welcome. Even if we're closed."  _ Which is quite often, _ he thought.

"Again, I can't thank you enough. I hope you like the brownies. We baked them together."

"They look scrumptious," Aziraphale beamed.

“Thanks again, Mr. Fell.” He held his hand out for another handshake. Aziraphale took it and shook it a little too hard, letting his anxiety seep out. He could only breathe a sigh of relief as he left the bookshop without another word. He opened the door to the book room. He glanced around, initially missing his snake. 

"He sounded nice," Crowley’s voice said. Azirphale looked toward it. He had turned humanoid, but he was still sitting on the same spot on the floor.

"Crowley, I'm going to lose my mind. This was supposed to be a vacation!”

"And it is. I think she's the last of our worries."

"Maybe we should go off to Alpha Centauri. Like you said. Just for a year or two."

"We can't do that now! What about her? What about the  _ plants? What about the books?" _

"You're right, you're right. I should just settle down." He flopped into his desk chair.

"You know what would help with that?" Crowley asked. 

Aziraphale looked at him wordlessly. He pulled a bottle from thin air.

"To wash the brownies down with, of course."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The A in A.Z. Fell stands for Anxiety.


	9. The Snestion (Snake Question)

The brownies were no match for an angel and his demon. 

The two of them loafed on a Sunday afternoon. It was the Sabbath, after all. Aziraphale’s chest was covered in crumbs; Crowley had lodged himself in the intersection of him and the couch. Aziraphale’s eyes danced along the endless lines of another novel. The only movements he made were those to turn a page and let out a yawn.

The sun was setting, and a gentle sunbeam wafted into the back room. It was the perfect evening, he thought, to relax. And relax he did; Crowley watched as his book drifted down to his tummy. His thumb as a rudimentary bookmark, Azirphale dozed off mid-sentence. 

The warmth gave Crowley the opposite effect. His cold-blooded body was endowed with energy. Restlessly, his tail twitched. He watched Aziraphale for a moment, and when the angel didn’t move, he slowly wriggled out of his corner. 

What to do, what to do. One could explore the nooks and crannies of a bookshop only so many times. His fresh enclosure offered no interesting smells. There was only one thing which nagged at his curiosity. 

He slithered up the desk leg flawlessly. The contents never changed often — Azirapahle was a creature of habit. Crowley found the key in the same spot as it always was. As he mouthed it, it made a slight jangle. He glanced to Aziraphale. His chest gently rose and fell all the same. 

Crowley slank into the first drawer. The diary was slightly askew, but still there. He nosed to a random page.  


> 25 October 1954 C.E.
> 
> Dear Diary,
> 
> I had the strangest thing happen to me today!! Someone stormed into my bookshop! He asked if I was the owner, and I said yes, and he immediately started yelling at me! The nerve! I asked him what ever could the problem be! I’d never seen the man before. 
> 
> He said that I must be ‘the angel.’ I asked, ‘Angel? There are many of those.’ He said, ‘You’re the angel! The angel that stole his heart!’ I asked, ‘Sir, this must be a misunderstanding.’ He said, ‘Oh, no, you know exactly what I’m talking about.’ I said, ‘I have no idea what you could possibly be talking about!’ He stopped yelling and stared at me. Then he said, ‘I just wanted to see what his “angel” was like.’ 
> 
> I tried to explain to him that I was not a Guardian Angel, contrary to popular belief. My name is Aziraphale, a Principality, nice to meet you. But he wouldn’t listen to me. I don’t think he

“Crowley! What in the name of all that is holy are you doing?”

At the sound of Aziraphale’s voice, Crowley lost his grip and tumbled to the ground. 

“My God! My diary? Crowley, you’re reading my _diary?”_

Aziraphale stared down at the snake. His eyes were wide. He didn’t twitch.

“My diary, Crowley.” Aziraphale huffed. “I cannot believe you would…” He shook his head. “Even you, a demon, has to know…”

He turned away. As their eye contact broke, Crowley snapped back into his mind. He stretched upwards, and as he ascended, his body grew with him.

“Angel, listen.”

 _“Don’t_ … Don’t.” Aziraphale refused to turn.

“Zira.” Crowley gingerly touched his shoulder.

“Don’t _touch_ me!” Aziraphale snapped. “You read my diary, learn my secrets, foil my trust when I let _you_ live in _my_ bookshop…” He sighed. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t bless the water.”

“I mean it,” Crowley pressed.

“You didn’t seem sorry a minute ago.”

“I was stupid, I—”

Aziraphale snatched the book from the desk. Before Crowley could react, he fled to the storage room. Crowley tugged at the door knob, but it was locked. 

“Angel, listen. I wasn’t thinking. I was just curious! I didn’t realize it was your diary!” He paused. “At first.”

There was no response.

“Come on. Let’s talk about this.”

Silence.

“You can’t hide forever.”

“I can for a few centuries!” Aziraphale answered. 

“Alright, fine,” Crowley growled. “Then I’ll leave. If you need me, I’ll be moving back into my flat.” He strode across the bookshop in record time. His hand touched the door, and he stopped. With his other hand, he flipped the sign to read “OPEN” through the window. He slammed the door open and stormed out.

He didn’t care if anyone saw him disappear from the streets of Soho. With a snap of his fingers, he was back in his flat. 

“Fuck.”

The word bounced around the empty home. Smooth walls trapped it in his presence. The air of failure smothered him. He had to move.

He paced into the plant room. Wordlessly, his eyes scanned the plants. He saw no imperfections — in fact, they seemed more flawless than before. He held out his pinkie and touched the edge of a leaf. He jerked it back, instinctively sticking it in his mouth.

“He blessed them. Damned angel.” 

At the realization, the plants quivered. Crowley ignored them. He made his rounds around the room, his words reaching no one but them.

“That damned angel. What did he think, trusting me? Should’ve known better. I’m just a demon, after all. Always have, always will be.” He groaned. “I’m just God’s little red-headed step child. Causing trouble and breaking spirits. No wonder She abandoned me.”

His fingers wormed into his hair. Frustration gave way to grief.

“I’m just a snake. Sneaky, deceitful. An insult to the humans.”

The plants stopped trembling.

“I can’t even let myself be happy.”

A muffled sound caught his attention. He froze, waiting.

“Crowley?” He could barely make out the sound of the sound of his own name. “Crowley!” It came from the other side of the front door. He recognized the voice. He ignored it.

“Crowley, I know you’re in there!” A fist knocked at the door. “I want to talk.”

“That’s not what you said before,” Crowley called back as he approached.

“I do now! Open the door.”

Crowley paused. He pursed his lips together. Thoughts mulled over in his mind.

“Please, Crowley.” The voice came softer.

Crowley opened it to Aziraphale ready to knock again. He blinked and lowered his fist. He gave a half-hearted smile.

“Crowley,” he said.

“Speak,” Crowley responded curtly. He spun around his velvet chair and sat down, his legs tangled together. 

“I—” Aziraphale started. He swallowed. “I may have overreacted.”

Crowley simply stared.

“I’m sorry. It’s not like there’s anything in the diary I wouldn’t tell you, anyway. I was just… shocked.”

Crowley said nothing.

“I’m not happy about it, but… I’m willing to forgive you.”

“Forgive me?”

“You’re always worthy of forgiveness, Crowley.”

Crowley snorted. 

“At least I think so.”

“Answer me this, angel.” A hiss underlined his words. “Why did you ever l keep me around? Huh? What do you care? I’m a demon. Said so yourself.” He got up and started to pace. “No longer the star maker, no longer the Serpent of Eden. When’s the last thing I did anything worthwhile, huh?” 

“Crowley—”

“Couldn’t even save the world right. Just been inconveniencing humanity from day one. Not to mention you!”

“Crowley, listen—”

“I’m just some bookshop pet. Cute little snake, slither around, make people gawk.”

“That’s not true,” Azraphale insisted.

“Then tell me,” Crowley said, spinning around. He stared Aziraphale down and came up to him, inches from his face, close enough to feel his extraneous breath. “Why did you come back?”

Aziraphale didn’t flinch.

“I came back because I love you.”

Crowley frowned. 

“You _what?”_

“I love you, Crowley.”

“No, no.” Crowley took a step back. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything before?” Crowley plead.

“Because I didn’t think I had to,” Aziraphale said.

The world froze for a moment. The leaves of the trees outside of the flat stopped shaking. Birds paused to take a breath.

And Crowley laughed.

“Why would you do something so silly like falling in love with me?”

Aziraphale said nothing.

“You remember when we first agreed to stay together? And there was something else I wanted to tell you?”

“Of course. The rock. I’m glad you reminded me, I almost forgot about it—”

“I was going to tell you that same thing. But I was too much of a coward.”

“You were going to tell me…”

“Tell you I love you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to make a shoutout to my friend Adriana who let me hold her three pythons the other day. They're very nice and soft. I want one :(


	10. Snats (Snake Chats)

The two of them walked back to the bookshop together.

Aziraphale clasped his hands behind his back. Crowley found the ground fascinating. The distance between them wavered as they followed the sidewalks home.

“Love’s a strong word,” Crowley said.

“It is,” Aziraphale nodded. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“Bet you love a lot of things.”

“Well, yes. But not in the same way.”

“How long?”

“How long what?”

“How long have you…” Crowley shrugged.

“Ah. Well. That’s difficult to say. I barely realized it myself, for a while.” Aziraphale smiled. “Remember 1941?”

“How could I forget?”

“You saved the books.”

“The books?”

“The books.”

“Really? Books?”

“I realized you were capable of doing things that weren’t just for your own good.”

“That’s a compliment.”

“You were selfless. I’m sure you couldn’t care less whether they burned or not. But you knew I would.”

Crowley counted the cracks in the concrete. 

“Not even us angels are that selfless,” Aziraphale elaborated. “Not by nature, anyway.”

“You did miracle us out of us being discorporated. It was the least I could do.”

“The least you could do was stay out of the church and let me get discorporated one way or another.”

“Churches build character.”

“You really should stop being so modest, Crowley. It’s a virtue, you know.”

Crowley snorted. “I don’t think Hastur’s keeping track anymore.”

The setting sun drove shadows into the ground. Aziraphale relaxed his arms. He nonchalantly reached for Crowley’s, which were half in his shallow pockets. It didn’t take much to coax the nearest hand to grasp his. Crowley instinctively started to pull away, but he forced himself to relax. His fingers found the spaces between Aziraphale’s. The two of them held tight.

“May I ask the same question?” Aziraphale asked. “How long have  _ you?” _

“Remember Eden?”

Aziraphale stopped in his tracks.  _ “The Garden of Eden?” _

“Uh, right, well, yes. Back then.”

“Crowley, you’ve been…” Aziraphale bobbled his head as if it had come loose. “For six thousand years?” 

“Give or take.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“Come on, angel, it’s nearly nightfall.”

Crowley tugged Aziraphale along. Aziraphale followed, still dazed.

“What was it? Because I was… on tree duty?”

“What? No. I don’t think I ever saw you guarding that tree, actually. I knew you were rather poor at your job. But you caught me off guard.”

“Because I was a bad angel?”

“No! Well, sort of. It was your sword. How you just… gave it away, like it wasn’t a holy relic from the Almighty Herself.” 

“Well, now, it was my job…”

“No it wasn’t!” Crowley smiled. “That’s it, that’s precisely it. You decided to break the rules to be kind. Not like those other angels, who would rather be discorporated than even think to cross the rules. Rules, rules, rules. I’m sick of all the rules. Can no one else think for themselves up there?”

“No, I figure they can’t.”

“Exactly.” 

Crowley held himself a little higher. A subtle smile loitered on his face. Aziraphale recognized this emotion as he had been taught: pride. This time, he thought, it was no sin. 

They reached the bookshop as the last sliver of sun peeked over the horizon. Aziraphale held open the door. Particles of dust fluttered around the silent building. It was warm.

“I’m still in a snake mood myself,” Crowley said.

“By all means.”

Crowley sank to the ground and just as quickly ascended Aziraphale’s pant leg. He circled him until his long body draped around him. His tail hooked around his pocket watch; his head rested on his usual place on his shoulder. 

Aziraphale angled his head and gave Crowley a kiss on the snout. With round eyes, Crowley hid his head under his neck. Aziraphale laughed.

“You’re a precious little thing,” he cooed.

\---

Monday was full of conversation and quietude. The bookshop light buzzed. Only the occasional page turning interrupted the atmosphere. Yet, the shop was less eventful than the back room.

Aziraphale spoke, but he said much of nothing. The floodgates of his mouth compensated for his silent companion. Six thousand years of meaningless drabble found their way out of his mind.

Crowley enjoyed every second of it. He didn’t touch the ground for a moment. Aziraphale carted him around as he went back and forth between paperwork, accounting, book admiring, and other miscellaneous bookshop owner activities. 

The day flew by. To a being as old as Aziraphale, the only thing which differentiated them was flipping his sign from open to closed to open again. It wasn’t long before “closed” time. Before the hands on the clock were in the right spots to indicate it was time to flip the sign, the bell rang. 

They both recognized the pattering sounds of little footsteps. However, they lacked the gumption that typically fueled them. They saw Cory, rising above the stacks of books, before they spotted Millie.

“Good evening,” he greeted the angel as he emerged from the back room.

“How can I help you?” Aziraphale answered in his customer service voice.

“I know I’ve been asking a lot of you lately,” Cory said, “But Millie’s awfully bummed about something. She won’t tell me about it, but I think something happened at school today. I was wondering… if seeing the snake might cheer her up.”

Millie already peered at Crowley. Her eyes traced the tangles of his body on Aziraphale. 

“Of course, of course.” Aziraphale pried Crowley off of himself and offered him to Millie. With delicate arms, he was turned over to the girl. Millie make a bee-line for the couch in the book room. 

“It’s dark,” Aziraphale observed.

“Don’t worry. You know kids. They like to hide in the dark. She’s never been afraid of it.”

They could just barely make out soft words from the darkness.

“I have a hard time believing she’d talk to a snake of all things before me,” Cory said. 

“You’re her father,” Aziraphale said, “She doesn’t want you to worry. Kids don’t want to be a burden.”

“You sure you never had any, Mr. Fell?”

Aziraphale paused. “I’ve watched after one or two in my day.”

“Uncle Crowley,” Millie murmured. “Beth and her friends were making fun of me. Making fun of you. Saying I was… a witch. Because I like snakes. They don’t understand. You’re a nice snake. There’s nothing wrong with you. You just hiss and bite to defend yourself. All animals have to defend themselves. And snakes have venom, which is really cool. They just evolved to have special chemicals. Humans don’t have anything like that.”

Crowley pressed his head into her neck.

“They don’t understand,” she whispered. “They don’t.”

She stopped speaking. Crowley could smell the salt of tears from her eyes. His tongue tickled her hand. She stroked him on the head, but she was still tense. He worked his way up her arm and made his way into her hair.

“Uncle Crowley?” she asked, a hint of amusement breaking through her voice.

Crowley slithered through her tangles. He briefly perched himself on top of her ear. 

“You’re so silly!” Millie said. 

He stretched himself out; as soon as he could reach, he tickled her nose. She laughed. Water seeped from the corners of her eyes.

“I knew this would help,” her father said, smiling in the other room.

“We’re always here to help.” Aziraphale returned the smile.

“Bet you never thought your pet would make a friend, did you?”

“He has his ways.”

The adults danced around small talk as the time wore on. Aziraphale had never been much good; he could only discuss his favorite restaurants so many times. Just as he debated which to suggest next, a shadow emerged from the room.

“I’m ready to go home,” Millie said. Her voice was soft but her back straight. 

“Great. What do you tell Mr. Fell?”

“Thank you.” She flashed him a smile. With a quick goodbye, the small family were the last ones to leave the bookshop.

As Aziraphale returned to the back room, he could see the silhouette of his demon in the shadows.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said, “How much do you love me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started school yesterday. No promises, but I want to finish this story before I get overwhelmed with homework. Maybe if we all cross our fingers, the writing gods will grant me the time and motivation.
> 
> Edit: Thank you for 3000 hits!! That's nuts. I love you all <3


	11. The Snully (Snake Bully)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: More bullying, this time with religious undertones.   
> Also, arthropod death :(

“You did  _ what?” _

“I don’t know why you’re surprised, really.”

“And here I thought you were done being a demon.”

“Well, I didn’t kill her, did I?”

“That’s not funny.”

“If you were a demon, it’d be a little funny.”

“I’ll never understand your lot.” Aziraphale tisked. His crossed arms bared the space between him and Crowley.

“Listen, I was just trying to help—”

“Yeah, a great bit of help you did.”

“You never know!”

“Oh, I know.”

The time was three thirty in the afternoon. The receiver of Aziraphale’s phone was thrown cockeyed on the base. He had just finished speaking with a very confused father.

“All this will blow over. You know. When it does, everything will be just fine!” Crowley said.

“What if this just makes it  _ worse?” _

“Ah, but you didn’t see me out there, angel.”

“I didn’t have to.”

Crowley had returned to the bookshop half an hour earlier. He made up some excuse about picking out some new bedding. (His scales were more sensitive than you’d think, he said.) Aziraphale said little besides “watch how you go” as he was approximately two thirds into a new book he’d ordered. 

He didn’t even think twice about the pet store.

Crowley knew exactly where he was going. He had been there before, although the first time with the help of an angel. It didn’t make a difference. He knew the city of London more than any other soul inside it, and he drove through its streets without a hitch.

He parked just far enough to be out of sight, but close enough to see himself. He waited, slitted eyes staring down the building. At the sound of a bell, he nearly jumped out of his car.

Time for recess.

He slithered across the street to cling behind a chain-link fence. The tall grass in the ditch was just high enough to hide him. The grass allowed for just enough visibility as he watched the events of the hour take place.

Children scattered from the open doors of the school and into the playground. Swings were claimed and jungle-gyms were scaled. A game of kickball organized in a corner. The rituals of childhood began.

It didn’t take long for Crowley to spot the familiar face of Millie on the playground. She hovered close to the building. Alone, she investigated something on the sidewalk. 

“There’s the witch!” Beth pointed out to her posse. Behind her, a handful of children flocked. 

“What are you doing, witch?”

Millie said nothing. She cowered under their gaze. 

“What are those?” Beth approached her. She looked down at the sidewalk in front of her. “Roly polies? Ew.”

“Don’t hurt them,” Millie breathed.

“We won’t let you turn them into potions,” Beth declared. She stomped on the little bugs, crushing them under small feet.

“I wasn’t… I was just…”

_ “Witch,” _ Beth hissed.

Crowley had seen enough. He shrunk down into a snake; he was the perfect size to slither through the fence. Not a soul spotted him as he moved through the grass and toward the kids.

“Let’s exorcise her,” a boy said.

“Yeah!” the children cried in response.

“I’m not a witch,” Millie whimpered.

“You won’t admit it. But you are.”

_ “No.” _

“There’s only one way to find out.”

Beth started to speak in the rhythm of a prayer. Words ever familiar with a Christian child of her age came from her mouth.

“Our Father, who art in Heaven…”

The rest of the children chimed in. Their voices cycled in a round, with every prayer layering on top of the next.

“Hallowed thee by name…

“Give us this day…”

“Forgive us our trespasses…

“....But deliver us from evil.”

_ “Amen.” _

Crowley’s deep voice shattered the children’s chanting. They spun around, mortified by the way his yellow eyes brought out the yellow in his grin. The majority of them fled. Their screams mimicked the squeals of recess joy. Beth, however, was paralyzed in his glare.

“Crowley!” Millie gasped.

“Listen, Witchhunter,” Crowley hissed, “You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

Beth slowly walked backwards. Crowley matched her pace.

“Millie isn’t a witch. Not even close. She’s damn clever, but God gave her that gift. Not my side.”

His crooked smile widened.

“That’s right. The little snake she brought to school? That was me. And me? I’m a demon. And you? You remind me of some old friends of mine.

“Watch your back, little girl. You mess with her, and I might just have to bring you home for a little family union. Got it?”

The only thing Beth could do was nod her head.

“Good.” He looked over her shoulder to meet Millie’s eye. He winked.   


\- - -

“And he just, disappeared?”

“That’s what they said. They turned their backs on him, and he was gone.”

“My goodness.”

“They must’ve had every teacher on the school yard around him. Phoned the police and everything. They’re running a story on it on the news tonight.”

“Is Millie…?”

“No, no. They won’t mention the details. They just want to find this… man. She’s not in trouble or anything. They’re allowing her to sit inside and read during recess for a ‘punishment,’ but that’s what she likes to do, anyway.”

“Oh, good, good. I’m glad.”

“I don’t think… I don’t think I’ll be bringing her back anytime soon. Not until I figure out what really happened. I don’t want you tied up in this, either.”

“I’m sure it’ll be no issue.”

“Thank you, Mr. Fell. Goodbye.”

Aziraphale dropped the receiver.

“You did  _ what?” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got my mom to watch Good Omens with me. She wants to read this when she’s done. If she is, hi Mom!! I love you and thanks for indulging my weird interests.


	12. The Sniece (Snake Niece)

Nearing the cusp of fall, London offered its people a rainy day. This wasn’t uncommon, although the rain fell in drops, rather than the mist which often brushed them. It was the perfect day, Aziraphale decided, to close the bookshop and snuggle up with a book and cocoa. Not to mention the snake. Crowley wove his way around the wrinkles in his blanket. His tail wrapped around the base of the mug to catch the heat.

Aziraphale prayed for more perfectly lazy days to come.

His prayers were ignored.

Quick knocks hammered against the door. Aziraphale ignored them; if it was important enough, they’d call him and leave a voicemail. But the knocking didn’t stop. There was only a short pause, and then more knocking. And more. No end. Damn — the lights were on. There was no hiding. 

Aziraphale took his time getting up. The knocking grew no fainter, but Crowley refused to move. He peeled back the blanket and carefully stepped out. 

“This better be important,” Aziraphale muttered.

He made it to the door and opened it. Tired eyes grew wide as he processed what was in front of him: Cory was soaked to the bone. He was barely properly clothed, and what clothes covered him clung to his skin.

“Have you seen Millie?” he asked.

“What?” Aziraphale blinked against the light of the outside world.

“She’s gone missing. Ran away sometime this morning, I think. I can’t find her anywhere. I thought she might be here.”

“Here?”

“I — I don’t know. I told her we wouldn’t visit for a while and — well, she’s not here, so I have to keep looking. Thank you.”

“Wait!” Aziraphale stopped him. “Let me help you look.”

“Mr. Fell, I couldn’t possibly ask for you too—”

Aziraphale grabbed a raincoat before he could argue. He hurried out the door and closed it behind him.

“Lead the way,” Aziraphale told him.

“Uh, well, this was one of the first places I’ve looked… I don’t…”

“The school?” Aziraphale suggested.

“Sure, yeah, maybe the school.”

The two of them trekked into the streets. Puddles grew in the edges of the road. The roofs of building dripped fat tears. 

Of course it was raining. Of course. The cliche gave weight to Aziraphale’s scowl. He would miracle it away if it wouldn’t scare the already shaken man. He wished he could at least summon him a coat or a towel. The least he could do, he figured, was miracle an umbrella in the deep pockets of his coat. He pulled one out and opened it to cover them both. 

“Thanks,” Cory said through gritted teeth.

They moved in silence. Cory’s head swiveled like an office chair. Aziraphale reached out to feel for any strong emotion — maybe she would find the affection of a wild snake. He couldn’t know. He could only try. 

His concentration was interrupted by words from his companion.

“I thought she was just quiet,” Cory said. 

“She isn’t the most talkative girl,” Aziraphale offered.

“She was upset. Of course she would be. I was afraid she was… maybe, too sheltered from spending so much time in the bookshop. After… well, the incident… I didn’t know what to do. What  _ do  _ you do in a situation like that?”

“I don’t know,” Aziraphale said truthfully. 

“She wouldn’t talk, which is typical. When she gets that upset, she never does. I always leave her alone to decompress. Then I try to talk to her logically. Try to treat her like an adult, you know? I’m so naive.”

“You respect her,” Aziraphale said.

“Well, now she’s missing. And it’s my responsibility to find her.”

His eyes were as cold as the rain which battered them.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Aziraphale tried.

Cory kept moving. 

\---

Their search was fruitless.

Aziraphale had felt nothing. He knew her aura, what her happiness felt like. He couldn’t sense a lick of it. Cory had just as much luck. They resorted to going door-to-door, begging random residents for information. 

There was nothing. Aziraphale couldn’t stand to look Cory in the eye by the time they returned to the bookshop. He could no longer tell where the moisture on his face had originated. 

“You’ll call me, right? If you discover anything?”

“As soon as I hear a thing.”

Cory nodded. His eyes avoided contact as well. He left without another word, autopilot carrying him forward. Aziraphale’s stomach plummeted. 

When he opened the door to the shop, he could hear crying.

It was her.

He snuck toward the back room. He knew every squeaky board in the shop; he evaded each one. The room was dimly illuminated by the streetlamps shining through the curtains. He could see the faint shapes of Millie and his demon. Her face was pressed into his jacket, and his arm was wrapped around her. Gasps of air interrupted loud sobs. 

Aziraphale noticed a yellowed scrap of paper and a pen sitting beside them. Words had been scrawled out; tears had smudged the ink.

Millie breathed more and cried less as the minutes passed. Other noises escaped her mouth. She tried to form words which were incomprehensible through her tears.

“Speak, Love,” Crowley murmured in a gentle voice.

She took deep breaths, and eventually, she could manage words.

“I broke our promise,” she got out.

“Our promise?” Crowley urged.

“I told Dad — I told Dad you were a person. I — I gave away your s-secret.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.”

“But I hurt — I hurt you.”

“No, no. I took a risk when I went out to your school. And I think it paid off, don’t you?”

“But now he won’t let me — he won’t let me come back.”

“Sure he will.”

“No, he won’t.”

“Just give him time. Adults don’t always understand these kinds of things. And when they don’t understand, they pretend it didn’t happen.”

“He’s mad.”

“He’s not mad. He’s worried about you.”

Millie didn’t respond. Aziraphale summoned a box of tissues. He entered the room silently and offered it to Crowley. Crowley looked at him, just now noticing him, nodded, and pulled out some tissues. He nudged them into Millie’s hand. She blew her nose loudly.

“I don’t want to go home.”

“You need to.”

“Can’t I stay here?”

“What about your dad? He loves you.”

Silence.

“He wants the best for you. He’s not perfect — no one is — but he tries. And that’s more than most people can say.”

“I don’t want to leave.”

“Millie, listen.” Crowley pressed his hand against her head. “I will always be here for you. Always. I will protect you, no matter what. Even when you don’t think I’m there. It would take the very army of Heaven itself to stop me. And even then, I’d put up a hell of a fight.

“You’re a strong person. I know you can do good things. But if you ever need me, I’ll be here. Promise.”

Millie sniffled.

“Pinky Promise?”

Crowley held out his pinkie.

“Pinky Promise.” 

Millie looked up from his soaked jacket. She hooked her pinkie around his. He smiled. She smiled back.

“Now, let’s make a deal,” Crowley said.

“What kind of deal?”

“If you go home tonight, I’ll have a surprise for you tomorrow.”

“A surprise?”

“Yes. I can’t tell you what. But if you let Zira phone your dad to pick you up, and you go home, I’ll let you see it.”

“Tomorrow?”

“First thing tomorrow.”

Millie mulled it over for a moment.

“Okay.”

Aziraphale went to his phone. He found a scrap of paper which had Cory’s number scrawled on it. He dialed. The phone didn’t have a chance to ring.

“Do you know anything?” Cory asked.

“She’s here.”

“Thank God.” He let out a literal sigh of relief. “Is she okay? Did anything happen?”

“She’s perfectly fine. Safe and sound.”

“I’ll be there in five.”

They were waiting in the front when he arrived. Millie, since toweled off, calmly waited. Cory threw the door open without a knock; the moment she saw Millie, he fell to his knees. He grasped her with the desperation as a vine to its trellis. 

“I was so worried about you,” Cory said in a thick voice, “I was so scared you were hurt or something happened — I couldn’t live with myself if…”

Millie hugged him back. 

“I love you so much.”

Cory kissed her on the forehead and stood up. 

“I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Fell. I was wrong to think…”

Aziraphale waved his concerns away with a smile. “It was my pleasure. Really.”

Cory nodded. He reached out his hand.

“Ready to go?” he asked Millie. She nodded.

He gave another thank you before he left, and as quickly as he came, he left. 

Aziraphale returned to the back room. Crowley, deadpan, stared at the wall. Aziraphale sat next to him and leaned against his boney frame. He found his hand through the darkness.

“You did the right thing,” Aziraphale said.

“Always been rather prone to doing that, haven’t I, Angel?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gee Millie, how come your author lets you have THREE dads?


	13. Snake Omens (Snomens)

“Crowley, I don’t know if I can take this,” Aziraphale said in the ripe morning. “I don’t even know what your surprise is. Does it have to be a secret?”

Crowley was curled around his favorite rock as if his life depended on it. He craned his neck to look at him. He flicked his tongue indignantly.

“I would appreciate it if you would talk to me, you know.”

Crowley let out a sigh. He took his time scaling the wall of his enclosure. His tail lingered in the warmth before it slipped out after him.

“What’s the fun of a surprise if it’s not a surprise?” Crowley answered, lying on the floor.

“It causes anxiety, that’s why. We didn’t talk to that young gentleman beforehand. And — And I’ll be the one presenting it! I have a right to know.”

“I’ll give it to him,” Crowley said.

“You’ll what?”

“I’ll give the surprise to him. Well, no, Millie. But this is really is something I should discuss with him beforehand.”

“Have you forgotten he still thinks you’re a snake?”

“He thinks _Crowley_ is a snake.”

“Whatever you say, dear.”

“Just follow my lead.”

\- - -

They took the Bently. Crowley drove even more erratically than usual, although the trip was short. His heart raced with demonic adrenaline. It was, simply, a miracle that no one was hit.

Aziraphale prayed for the first time since his discorporation. 

They arrived at their destination no longer moving at 160 km/h. He gently parked on the street outside of a row of identical apartments. 

“Sure this is the right one?” Azirapahle asked.

“Yeah.” Crowley pulled down his visor and played with his hair in the mirror. 

“Trying to make a good first impression?” Aziraphale teased. 

“As much as a demon can,” Crowley responded. He threw the door open. His legs stretched out onto the sidewalk. 

A dog barked, somewhere, behind a screen door. Figures chatted, leaning against doorframes. The white light from the apartment door in front of them was unobstructed.

Aziraphale knocked on the door. They didn’t hear anything behind the threshold. Aziraphale looked at Crowley.

“They couldn’t be gone, could they?” he asked.

Crowley reached forward and rang the doorbell. The door opened.

“Mr. Fell!” Cory smiled as he recognized him. “Millie told me to expect you this morning.” His smile wavered as he glanced to his side. “And who’s this?”

“Cory, this is my partner, Anthony,” Aziraphale beamed.

“It’s a pleasure,” Crowley said as he reached out a hand. 

“Oh! Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, too, Anthony.” 

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Crowley said. “And I’ve heard even more about _you,”_ he said to the figure peeking around him. Millie burst into smile. 

“Mr. Fell has told you about us, has he?” Cory asked.

“Oh, nothing but good things. Millie here sounds like a little angel.” Crowley winked at her.

“That she is. Come in, come in. The place is still a bit of a mess, but, uh, you’re free to make yourselves at home.”

The muted TV drew the eyes of the two visitors. A clean, worn couch hugged a few chairs close. They were all white and striped in a sort of fuzzy way the early nineties would produce. Aziraphale smiled at them as he found a place in one of the chairs. Millie sat on the far side of the couch. 

“Mr., uh, Cory, may I speak with you alone?” Crowley asked.

Cory raised an eyebrow. “Uh, I don’t see why not. Join me in the kitchen for a moment.” 

The two of them slipped through a swinging door. In the whitewashed room, stacks of dishes had been haphazardly hidden in the sink. Aziraphale caught glances of drying pots hanging from the rack on the ceiling.

Alone, Aziraphale and Millie looked at each other. Millie’s fingers rubbed at an especially worn patch of upholstery. Her eyes sparkled in the morning light. 

“You love him,” she said. 

“Pardon?” Aziraphale asked. 

“You love Uncle Crowley,” she smiled. “And he loves you.”

Aziraphale blushed. 

“You are quite clever, little one.”

“Can I call you Uncle Zira?”

The kitchen door swung open, and Crowley passed through straight for the front door. Cory walked out after him, his smile sharper than his eyes. He made his way next to Millie and sat down, his hands on his knees, letting out a sigh as big as small as his home. 

“You ready?” he asked his daughter. 

She could barely hold herself still. 

Aziraphale couldn’t see though the closed blinds. But he could just picture Crowley reaching into the back seat of his Bently and pulling out some wonderful surprise from the air of his expectations. 

The doorknob jiggled, and Cory jumped up to help it open. He pulled it open. Through the door, Crowley produced the cat carrier Aziraphale had once shoved him in. The reflection of the plastic flashed against his sunglasses as he entered himself. His face was still, but Aziraphale, ever familiar, could feel the repression of his excitement.

“Here she is,” Crowley announced, setting the carrier on the back of the couch and draping himself on top of it.

“What…?” Millie propped herself on her knees and shuffled to it. Crowley unlatched the door. As if on cue, a red-bellied black snake crawled up his arm. 

Aziraphale and Millie had matching eyes as they took in the picture. They both processed the same thought: the snake’s eyes were black.

“Her name’s Lilith,” Crowley murmured. The snake nosed her way toward Millie. She hovered in the air, just close enough for her to feel the breeze from her tongue. 

“She’s beautiful,” Millie whispered. She held out a hand. Lilith’s tongue brushed her fingers.

“It tickles,” Millie breathed, her eyes dancing.

“Now, she has a little different temperament from the snake you know and love. But, if you ask me, she’s a pretty good friend.”

“Hello,” Millie said as she let Lilith bridge herself onto her hand.

“I have an enclosure and the rest of the supplies in the car. Should last you a while.”

Millie looked up at him. She stared; she barely registered Lilith wrapping herself up her arm. 

“Are you… is she…?”

“Oh, I’m not taking her back. She’s stuck with you. Dad said so.”

Millie leapt off her knees. She hooked her arms around Crowley’s shoulders. Like the snake on her arm, she hung from his neck. Crowley put a gentle hand on her back.

“You’re welcome,” he said.

\- - -

They stayed until everything had been set up: the enclosure, bedding, heat gradient, and a smooth, familiar rock. Lilith snoozed in the corner. She was tired from all the socialization, Crowley said. Millie understood.

Hugs were traded before they left. Of course, Millie couldn’t say goodbye without them. As she was embraced in Crowley’s arms once again, she whispered, _“Thank you, Uncle Crowley.”_

To his surprise, Millie came to Azirapahle next. With a hug just as tight, she whispered to him, _“Thank you, Uncle Zira.”_

It took them ten minutes worth of goodbyes before they made it to the car. 

“So, Crowley,” Aziraphale stated.

“Yes, angel?”

“Where exactly did that snake come from?”

“I have to keep _some_ demonic secrets, don’t you think?”

Aziraphale huffed. “Thought I’d give the question a try. So, what about your habitat? We kind of gave it all away.”

“Ah. I think I’m done being a snake for a while.”

“You are?”

“I miss having legs.”

Aziraphale laughed like the ring of a bell. “You always keep me on my toes.”

“That’s the plan.”

Crowley parked on the street next to the bookshop. A “Reserved” parking sign Aziraphale hadn’t before seen stood beside them. 

“Well, I have a few errands to run tomorrow,” Crowley said.

“Oh?”

“Figure I might as well bring the plants over. Your bookshop needs a little more life, angel. And it’ll cut down on commute time.”

“Sounds like a swell idea.”

“I figure if I do that I should bring a few more of my belongings. Spruce up the place. How many centuries since you last redecorated?”

“Far too many.”

“Then it’s settled.”

“Any use in keeping that flat, then?”

“I s’pose not. Doesn’t have much use now, does it?”

“There’s always room for you at my bookshop. That is, if you want to stay.”

“I might have to take up that offer. But remember you’re the one who brought it up.”

“Oh, yes, I know. If I regret it, it’s entirely my fault.”

Sunshine drifted through the half-open curtains of the shop. The breeze of the outside world was stilled. The two of them stood side by side, taking in the picture. Aziraphale took hold of his hand. 

“We still have the rest of the day to burn,” Crowley said.

“I say we read something together. There are _so_ many things you just _have_ to read. I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Well, we have all the time in the world.”

Aziraphale glided over to his desk. He pulled out the right hand side drawer. From it, he pulled out an old, leather-bound book.

“I was thinking I could start with this old thing. What do you think?”

“Oh, Angel, don’t—”

“Really, Crowley. I figure I might as well remind myself what I’ve been up to this past century.” He smiled.

“I suppose…”

Aziraphale found a spot on his couch and crossed his legs. He patted the spot next to him. Hesitantly, Crowley sat next to him. Aziraphale scooched closer. 

“Now, where did you leave off?”

“I didn’t really… just kind of glanced around…”

“Oh, the page you were on got folded over. Silly me. I’m never so reckless. Let’s see.” 

Aziraphale fingered the book open at the dog ear. He found the beginning of the entry with an “ah!” He glanced at Crowley, his smile returning.

“Does this sound right? ‘I had the strangest thing happen to me today…’”

“Yeah, that was… That was it.”

Aziraphale scanned over the page. His eyes widened. Then, his mouth gaped open.

_“You!_ That was you!”

_“What_ was me?”

“The angel man! Don’t tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about!”

“Well, I, uh—”

“He told me he was turned down because his true love wouldn’t betray his ‘angel!’”

“Maybe, I—”

“How could you lead him on like that?”

“See—”

“How many people did you seduce only to pull that one?”

“You’re missing the point, angel.”

“And that is?”

“I stayed loyal you all these years.”

“Oh, stop it.”

“I did! I swear!”

Aziraphale held onto Crowley’s gaze. For a moment, his breath caught in his throat.

“Pinky promise?”

THE SNEND

(Snake End)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nope, 13/14 chapters isn’t a typo, there will be an epilogue :)
> 
> I’m actually most proud of being able to type the name Aziraphale without thinking about it anymore. Copy and paste is for suckers.


	14. Snepilogue (Snake Epilogue)

_Observing and Quantifying Native Reptilian Fauna of London Area_

“There it is!” Aziraphale pointed out. “Come on, Crowley, let’s go see!”

Aziraphale spotted the title from yards away. The long room they passed through was filled with rows of stands, one after another. On each one, large, paper posters had been tacked on. Academic jargon flashed by them as they made their way through.

“Slow down, slow down!” Crowley hovered around another poster made by the Astronomy Department. He took one last glance at it before tearing himself away. He spotted Aziraphale right before he rounded a corner. 

Crowley cut through students in sweaty dress clothes and faculty in suits and pencil skirts. He muttered “‘scuse me” again and again. He swung around when he reached the corner and nearly toppled over as he escaped from the crowd.

“And Uncle Crowley! You made it!” Millie’s shining eyes greeted him as he regained his bearings. 

“Hey, kid. How’s it going?”

Millie still had one arm around Aziraphale, but she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around Crowley. He hugged her back. Aziraphale could see the unconscious smile which took hold of his face.

“So,” Aziraphale said, “tell us about your research!” He folded his hands behind his back and looked at her expectantly.

Millie laughed. “Well, it looks more impressive than it is. We just got started, really.”

Crowley crossed his arms and examined the poster. A faded stock photo of grass was the backdrop to it. A number of headings covered the poster: Abstract, Introduction, Results, Discussion, Acknowledgements. A few graphs highlighted key points. What caught his attention were pictures of some of the reptiles they’d found. 

“Find any red-bellied black snakes?” Crowley asked.

“I’m pretty sure there’s only two of those in London.”

“Fair enough.”

“There’s lots of other snakes in London, though! Probably even more than what we’ve found so far. There’s a few species in other papers we haven’t spotted yet.”

“It certainly looks impressive,” Aziraphale said. 

“Thanks, Uncle Zira. I mostly just made the figures.”

Another person rounded the corner. She wore a sweater over a dress shirt. A lanyard around her neck enhanced her aura of professionalism. She glanced at Millie before looking at her visitors in surprise.

“Hello,” she said, a hint of question in her tone.

“Are you the prof?” Crowley asked. 

“Dr. Kierra Moss,” she responded, holding out her hand. “I’m Millie’s mentor, yes.” 

Crowley took it. “Anthony Crowley. And there’s my husband, Zira.” 

After Crowley, Dr. Moss turned to shake hands with Aziraphale. 

“Are these… your fathers, Millie?” she asked uncertaintly. 

“Oh, no, my dad is coming later. These are… you could say they’re my godfathers.”

“I see,” Dr. Moss said. “Regardless, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Millie is a great student. It’s an honor to meet her influences.”

“Uncle Crowley gave me Lilith,” Millie said.

“You may not have realized the talent you inspired,” Dr. Moss said to him, “I’ve rarely seen a uni student be so knowledgeable about reptiles, much less someone in secondary school.”

“She’s a natural,” Crowley smiled. “I just nudged her along a little.”

“Whatever you did, it worked wonders. I’m excited to see her more next year.”

“You were accepted?” Aziraphale gasped.

“Oh, was that supposed to be a surprise?” Dr. Moss asked Millie.

“It’s okay. I was going to tell them today anyway.” 

“Kid, when you get out of here, we’re going to celebrate,” Crowley said.

\- - -

Surprising to no one, Aziraphale suggested sushi.

The four crowded around the bar. Millie, Cory, and Crowley butchered Aziraphale’s refined Japanese thank you, but the chef smiled nonetheless. 

“So, how’s the ol’ Crowley and Fell?” Cory asked.

“Oh, it’s doing great. It’s busier than ever,” Aziraphale said pointedly, and stared at Crowley.

“Hey, don’t look at me! Satan forbid I try to help out your business, angel.”

Aziraphale cleared his throat. “Let’s not digress.”

“Let’s not. We’re here to celebrate, right, kid?”

Millie smiled through a mouthful of sushi.

“What about your promotion?” Aziraphale asked. 

Cory shook his head. “Could not be better. I still can’t believe you had connections with corporate, Anthony.”

“He does have a lot of connections,” Aziraphale said, his gaze slowly shifting to look back at Crowley.

“I travel a lot,” Crowley said, polishing his teeth with a toothpick. He refused to acknowledge Aziraphale’s single raised eyebrow.

“Well, I’m long comfortable there. I’ve been in that position for a while, you know.”

Aziraphale nervously laughed. “It feels like just yesterday. You know how time flies when you get older.”

Crowley kicked him under the table.

“Right. I still can’t believe how big my little girl’s gotten. And so accomplished!” Cory beamed at Millie. She seemed to be focused on her food, although her face grew brighter and brighter red. 

“She’s such a dear,” Aziraphale said.

“I have to use the restroom,” Millie said.

Cory laughed. “Don’t dawdle, now.”

Aziraphale took the moment to steal a piece of sushi off of Crowley’s plate. 

“I wanted to say I can’t thank you two enough,” Cory started.

“No, don’t you start,” Crowley interrupted. “She’s more than a pleasure to have around.”

“Before that promotion, you virtually helped me raise her. And she’s gotten this far—”

“Put a sock in it, Cory. You’re her father.”

“I think my husband’s trying to say it was no skin off our backs to help out a friend,” Azirapahle said. 

“Alright, alright. But don’t you fight me over the check.”

\- - -

Crowley dropped them off outside quaint, country home. They upgraded not long after Cory’s promotion. It was still small, but it was free of the sounds and the smog of the city. A much better place to raise a young girl, Cory had said. 

“Come in and say hi to Lilith,” Millie said.

“Ah, we better be getting home,” Aziraphale said.

“Already?” 

“It’ll give us an excuse to visit again.” Crowley winked behind his sunglasses.

“I guess,” Millie said.

“You’re always welcome. You know that,” Cory added.

“Oh, come here, sweet pea.” Aziraphale opened up his arms. Millie gladly came in for a hug, but her arm stretched out and hooked Crowley into the embrace. With the arm of an angel around one shoulder, and a demon around the other, Millie had never felt more human. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said I wanted to finish this before I got swamped with homework… Sorry :0
> 
> Nonetheless… I want to thank each and every one of you for accompanying me on this adventure. It was so bittersweet to finish!! I didn’t want it to end, but at the same time, the last thing I wanted was for this fic to be left unfinished, abandoned. It’s such a sweet and silly story which made each day a little more enjoyable to think about. I only hope all of you have been touched by it in a similar way!
> 
> Anyhow… Snye (Snake Bye) for now!


End file.
